Beer, Pretzels And ESPN
by tj thw8s
Summary: Three Femmes invade Willys bar and commandeer the big screen. Cliches are deliberate


Title: Beer, Pretzels And ESPN Author: tj thwaites E-mail: tjthw8s@telusplanet.net Rating: G Classification: Humour, futurefic Spoilers: none Summary: Willy reluctantly surrenders control of one of the bar's big screens when three determined fems invade. Disclaimer: Buffy, Willow, Amy, Cordelia and Willy are all the creations (and "intellectual property", nice legalese) of Joss Whedon. If I knew where to send the sacrificial offerings, the great God Joss would have a lovely incense burner to add to his mantle.  
  
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Willy looked up from the sink when he heard the muffled groans errupt from several of the bar's regular Sunday afternoon patrons. He followed their collective gaze and couldn't quite stifle a groan of his own when he recognized the three women who'd just entered the bar.  
  
[Those three are gonna ruin me,] he railed silently.  
  
He swallowed in resignation as Buffy Summers stalked up to the bar. He had a suspicion what she wanted and, much as he would have liked to tell her no, he didn't think that answer would be beneficial for his health. And the other two were just as dangerous, if not more so. The other blonde with Buffy was rumoured to be witch. One of some power if the stories could be believed. Willy didn't much fancy life as a rat, especially not in Sunnydale. Some of the....uh...inhabitants here weren't too picky about their diets.  
  
The third member of the small group terrified Willy even more than the Slayer did. While the Slayer could beat him to a bloody pulp without breaking a sweat and the witch Amy could leave him with a desperate need for cheese, this innocent looking petite redhead was likely the most dangerous person in the room.  
  
Even vampires had started giving a very wide berth to Willow Rosenberg. She wasn't as physically powerful as the Slayer, but the blackbelt in Akido she'd recently acquired meant that she wasn't easy prey. And the rumours about Amy's witchcraft were paltry compared to some of the stories being bandied about in certain circles concerning Willow's abilities.  
  
Willy had also heard a few nasty stories about her less supernatural skills for revenge. Willy had no desire to find out if those stories were true. And considering what he knew about how the high school principal had treated the students, he suspected that the IRS audit Snyder had to endure every year for the past five years was proof enough for one Willy Prescott to want to do whatever he had to in order to never, *never*, make her mad at him.  
  
Even if it meant surrendering control of the bar's main big screen TV whenever these three showed up.  
  
"Afternoon ladies," Willy said, "What'll it be?"  
  
"Two pitchers of draft," Buffy replied sweetly, "A bag of pretzels, *fresh* ones this time, not the petrified ones you usually have out for those arm chair quarterbacks. And the remote, there's something on ESPN we wanna watch."  
  
"Hey!" came a shout from one of the tables, "We're watchin' the game!"  
  
The shouter's companions tried to shush the offender; they remembered what had happened a couple years ago when someone had tried to stop the three from watching the coverage of the 2002 Olympic Games gymnastics events. Practically every person in the bar had left soaked with "spilled" beer and pretzel crumbs or peanut shells stuck in their hair.  
  
Amy looked at Willow, as if to ask "You wanna?" Willow just smiled and inclined her head, silently replying "You can go ahead." Amy looked back at the owner of the offending voice. Suddenly, the man's mug of beer developed a mind of its own and leapt into his lap. The man's companions merely shook their heads and moved to another table where they could see one of the smaller TVs, ignoring the indignant sputtering coming from their friend.  
  
"Amy," Buffy half-seriously rebuked the witch, "That wasn't very nice. I'm sure he would have been willing to listen to reason."  
  
"Reason?" Amy replied, "You would have tried to *reason* with that beered up redneck?"  
  
"Strenuously, if necessary," Buffy answered with a smirk, "I could have offered to arm wrestle him for the TV."  
  
The three women shared a smile at the foregone conclusion that path would have revealed.  
  
"My way took less time," Amy retorted, grabbing one of the pitchers and a glass that Willy had just placed on the counter, "Change the channel already, it should be starting about now."  
  
Buffy wasted no time in switching the channel from the football game to ESPN while Willow grabbed the other pitcher and a glass and followed Amy to their regular table.  
  
"Hey!" Buffy cried, tossing some money on the counter before grabbing the third glass and following them, "How come I always have to pay for the first round?"  
  
"'Cause you usually have to run off for Slayage by the next time we order," Amy replied, unphased in the least.  
  
"It's *hours* until sundown," Buffy grumbled, "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Willow and Amy both chuckled.  
  
"What's your excuse, Will?" Buffy asked turning to her, "You're the one who's been just rolling in the green since your computer game hit the shelves."  
  
"I'll get the next round, okay?" the redhead replied, "Is Giles still upset about it? He actually called me 'irresponsible' when he found out about it."  
  
"Nah," Buffy comforted Willow, "He's over it. But I can understand where he's coming from. 'Demon Hunter' *is* a little too close to reality for the part of his brain that's still tattooed with the whole 'the Slayer must operate in secret' spiel."  
  
Willow nodded, accepting her friend's mild rebuke. Basing her cyberadventure on the past experiences of Buffy and the Slayerettes had been a little on the risky side. Even if the images of the characters had been altered from the real life people they were based on. Well, most of the characters; the demons were usually pretty close to real thing.  
  
"Turn it up," Amy interrupted, "It's starting."  
  
Willy and the bar's patrons turned to stare at the trio in shock as the volume came up. They'd turned away from the big screen, assuming the girls had turned on some wimpy "sport" like ice skating. They were unprepared for the words which blared out of the TV.  
  
"And it's a glorious afternoon here at the Taladega Motor Speedway," the annoucer intoned, "Perfect weather for the running of the annual Taladega 500."  
  
The women were watching *auto racing*?!?  
  
Buffy, Willow and Amy ignored the stares as they focused on the screen as the camera panned over the cars lined up behind the pace car approaching the Start/Finish line, the sounds of the engines nearly drowning out the voice of the reporter down in pit row.  
  
"The big story this year is the rookie driver from southern California," the reporter shouted in his microphone as the TV cut to the pit camera, showing the reporter standing near a pit crew dressed in...*gasp*...powder blue race suits, "The young woman driving for the Interlog team has certainly put some of the more chauvinistic drivers in their place. Despite good showing from other female drivers in the past, most of the good ole boys still on the circuit have always been of the opinion that no woman driver could ever be as tenaciously competitive as they were. Rookie driver Cordelia Chase has proven them wrong, winning two of the previous races this season. She has yet to finish out of the top ten and currently is leading the point standings for the Winston Cup."  
  
"I still can't believe Cordy's taking time off before her Master's Degree to race cars," Willow said as the TV cut to one of the in-car cameras.  
  
The new shot came from the car in the field directly behind Cordy's powder blue Chevy. Instead of a sponsor logo that most other drivers had, Cordy's car had "Queen C" emblazoned across the rear. A sight that was all too familiar to the other drivers on the circuit, in their chauvinistic (or embarassed macho) opinion.  
  
"I can believe it," Buffy said, grinning, "When we talked on the phone the other day, she mentioned that she just finished doing commercials for three, count 'em *three*, endorsement contracts. I got a videotape this morning in the mail with the commercials on it. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a long time. Not for the Revlon Cosmetics one, it's almost tasteful, but the one for Midol is just hilarious. They spliced together some 'close call' clips from some races, then cut to Cordy climbing out of her car, in the Winner's Circle no less, and saying something like 'If Midol can handle conditions like *this*, it can deal with whatever you're doing.' And the one for that new vinyard's champagne is almost as funny. I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching that one with Cordy getting sprayed with the bubbly."  
  
The conversation among the trio died and they concentrated on the screen as the annoucer's voice came over the speakers.  
  
"The green flag is out and we're racing at Taladega!"  
  
===========  
  
The patrons of the bar had almost gotten used to the bizarre scene before them. Three women shouting and screaming at a TV showing a *car race*. Not exactly the sort of thing they were used to. Sporting events here were usually "guy time".  
  
Willy had watched the trio all afternoon, shaking his head from time to time. Just when he thought he had a handle on the weirdness that was life in Sunnydale, someone threw something new in the mix. And the sight of the Terrible Trio jumping and screaming over a car race had to be one of the stranger things he'd seen in a while.  
  
Willy poured another pitcher as Buffy, Willow and Amy started high fiving each other.  
  
"It's on the house," Willy said as he set the pitcher on their table, "You look like you're celebrating something important."  
  
"Cordy just won her third race!" Buffy informed him, "Damn right we're celebrating!"  
  
Willy returned to the bar in a daze. He hadn't paid any attention to the race report, he'd been too fascinated with the trio's behaviour. Now he had something even more weird to think about. Cordelia Chase, a Winston Cup race car driver?!? A *winning* Winston Cup race car driver?!?  
  
[I bet her Driver's Ed teacher is spinning in his grave,] Willy thought as he watched the three women chug back the last of their beers and head for the door.  
  
THE END  
  
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